AIDS and Me

By Abby Mercado

Disyerto
She needed a few more minutes of footage. But Kara could not hold back her tears a minute
longer.
Excuse me she said, almost in a whisper, as she groped her way out of the poorly-lit room.
The chilly breeze should have made her go back inside but she needed some fresh air to collect
herself.
Angelika had agreed to meet Kara. She even nodded weakly at the cameraman zooming in on
her face. But she neither had the strength to get up from her makeshift bed nor to tell her own
story. The volunteer caregiver was doing most of the talking, next to a frail Angelika and a more
composed Kara.
Angelika has been positive for two years now. She doesnt know who among her partners has
given the virus to her.
She explained that in Namibia, it is common to have sex outside of marriage, as well as to have
many sexual partners, particularly for men.
Angelika became an outcast as soon as her family found out that she is HIV positive so I look
after her now.
Kara held the bony hand of the woman while listening to the volunteer. Angelika had a persistent
fever and kept on perspiring even in the absence of centralized heating in the dead of winter.
Her dry coughing would get in the way each time she tried to thank Kara. Even in the dark, Kara
could see small patches of rashes and sores on the tired womans face. Even in her suffering,
Kara could see a glimpse of anticipation in the womans eyes, hoping for recovery.
The mud hut with thatch roofing is barely big enough to accommodate Angelika and the
volunteers home-based care visits to feed, wash and administer Angelikas antiretroviral
treatment (ART). Just like the dedicated volunteer, the single candle was struggling in its

attempts to provide light and warmth to the tiny space. Kara thought her futile attempts at
clicking her tongue to say a few lines in the dialect would lighten up the gloomy scenario. She
felt like crying instead, and not because she failed miserably at pronouncing the foreign words
properly.
Its okay to empathize, but do not sympathize. The Namibian volunteer caught up with her
outside, and shared the one lesson that has kept her going through years of caring for people
living with HIV & AIDS in her village.
As an award-winning broadcast journalist, Kara David needed no further lecturing on the
distinction. This did not stop her from crying a few more times before she finished shooting
Disyerto in August 2004. Each VSO volunteer had a unique role to fulfill, yet each of them had
to deal with the impact of AIDS in the country.
Nimfa, a social worker, was tasked to make sure that the rights of people with disabilities are
supported by the society. While she assisted PWDs to access their welfare grants from the
government, she also identified cases of abuse in the Korixas Township.
Nimfa invited the GMA crew to the birthday party of a nine year-old girl, who now lived with other
orphaned children in a rundown house. The shelter, despite its condition, had given the children
the kind of caring and protection they never knew they deserved. The father of the celebrant
sought cure in raping his daughter, when she was much younger, upon learning of his HIV
status. Many people in the rural areas still believe that AIDS is a curse, and having sex with a
virgin is the only way to be saved from the dreadful disease. Apart from wearing a slightly newer
dress, the birthday girl did not look any different from the rest of the children in the shelter.
Nimfa said it took them months to help her find her voice again after years of not being able to
say a word.
Even the hens here look malnourished. Could they have AIDS, too? Lloyd Navera, the
documentary film director asked Marge jokingly. A community organizer in the Omaheke region,
Marge cautioned the amused gay director about the village peoples attitude toward
homosexuality. She stifled her giggles each time he struggled to downplay his animated
gestures outside the safety walls of Marges house. Lloyd even went an octave lower when he
was asked to sing the Philippine National Anthem after a traditional meal.
Marge started a Garden Project in the area. People on ART must find substitutes to costly
vegetables in the market to maintain a healthy diet. A small poultry farm was also set up to

supply the eggs and chickens for the community. Marge constantly came up with simple ways of
generating livelihoods so people in the village are able to sustain them. Despite the accessibility
and availability of the ARV drugs for free, food security is a major factor in the failure of ARVs in
Namibia. Many patients refuse to take ARVS due to their side effects. And taking it on an empty
stomach would only make matters worse.
The third Filipino VSO volunteer in Namibia at that time was Helen. As a teacher in at least
three schools in the Kavango region, she tried to keep her female students from dropping out of
school. She knew that her girls will be more prone to teenage pregnancies and HIV & AIDS
once they have stopped attending classes. In a country where parents would rather send their
boys to school and their girls to the farms, this proved to be Helens greatest challenge.
During the visit to one of her schools, groups of students stood outside the classrooms and
under the burning heat of the mighty African sun. They sang and danced for Helen. There was
something melancholic about their song despite the upbeat rhythm and almost dirty dancing.
The director motioned the cameraman to do a tight shot on Helens face as tears began to roll
down from her eyes. Helen was due to go back to the Philippines after being in Namibia for
more than two years. Her students did not want her to leave. And their song went No more
returning no more returning.
The I-Witness documentary featured the volunteering lives of Nimfa, Marge and Helen in
Namibia, to attract more Filipino development professionals to volunteer internationally through
VSO. Disyerto did not only succeed in gathering a huge number of volunteer aspirants, it also
captured the hearts of millions of Filipino viewers by giving a face to the killer virus from the land
it is most associated with. Angelika had died by the time Disyerto was shown on Philippine
television, barely a weeks time since Kara had visited her.

A Diary from the Land of the Brave

Could it be? Livey had to take the test to be certain.
After weeks of being nauseous and constantly craving for biltong, surely she should have known
the signs.
Youre positive! She was informed in that usual excited tone given to all expecting mothers.

She was only 17. She and her boyfriend hadnt discussed any wedding plans. He was her first
boyfriend and it was her first sexual experience.
Livey had been advised to take another test. It was the test she dreaded more than her
previous. Somehow, it has become customary to undergo HIV screening after a pregnancy test
when you live in Namibia. With the latest technology on HIV testing, she did not need to wait
that long to know the result.
Youre positive. It came from the same doctor, but the enthusiasm in her former tone had
completely vanished.
Unlike her pregnancy, Livey did not pay as much attention to the initial signs of carrying the
virus. Anyone could be ill with fever, headache, sore throat and diarrhea. Livey was not bothered
even when she started feeling fatigue and pain in the limbs, and had swollen lymph nodes and
skin rash. In the asymptomatic or second stage of the infection, one could remain looking
healthy and devoid of any signs of HIV for as long as nine years. But she was informed that
during this period of the infection, the HIV virus continues to reproduce itself and keeps
destroying the immune cells. Livey closely monitored her CD4 count through regular testing.
She had her breasts examined immediately after giving birth. She could not afford to buy milk
formula and could only breastfeed her son. She had to be sure she did not have any bleeding
wounds around her nipples. The virus had not been transmitted to Remi Joe, but if she is not
careful, she can infect her son through breastfeeding.
After five years of living with the virus, Livey has become an authority on HIV. She gave
immediate attention to common ailments to prevent further complications. She took every
precaution before engaging in sexual intercourse. Despite her financial constraints, Livey
prioritized nutritious food for her son and herself. Livey has been living positively even without
being on the ARV treatment. But aside from the fear of her HIV condition progressing into AIDS,
it was the stigma that Livey found most difficult to face.
Stigma is often what kills the spirit of the stronger ones who survive AIDS. If antiretroviral drugs
could stop the virus from mutating, Livey thought she could stop discrimination from spreading.
It took enormous amount of courage for Livey to talk openly about how she acquired the virus.
Talking about ones sexual practices is still considered a taboo in Namibia, even when condoms
have ceased to be a pharmaceutical item and have become freely available in all public
restrooms, libraries and offices.

With encouragement from her grandmother and support from UNICEF and Afrika Grupperna,
Livvy shared her story in Namibia and in other parts of the world. A Diary from the Land of the
Brave talks about the life, struggles and hopes of Livey van Wyk Samaria, a brave Namibian.

The Caring Namibian Man

In Namibia, only a few die of AIDS. They write TB, pneumonia, malaria and other less
controversial diseases than AIDS as the cause of death in the certificate. It is an unspoken
agreement that everyone honors.
Twenty per cent of Namibians are infected with HIV. The remainder of Namibias 1.8 million
people is affected with the pandemic. The inverted red ribbon is found on posters, in the
newspapers, on television, in hospitals, in government, multilateral agencies and NGO offices,
in toilets, in shopping centers, on wristbands and beaded bracelets, on pins, on t- shirts, in the
consciousness of the informed and in the bloodstream of the careless, the disadvantaged or
simply, the unfortunates.
The UNDP reported in 1999 that women and girls account for more than half of all the new
cases of HIV infection in the country. In 2006, this disproportion between Namibian women and
men remained, and the gap continued to widen. The physiological nature of the female anatomy
makes it more prone to HIV transmission. The economic and social status of women in Namibia
increases their vulnerability to AIDS. While the first factor cannot be remedied, the second can
be questioned. Gender inequality, exposure to violence and rape, transactional and
intergenerational sex, and multiple sexual relationships among men are the common reasons
why there are more women than men who are infected with HIV in Namibia.
A VSO volunteer from Kenya initiated an information campaign on HIV & AIDS with male
traditional leaders in the Kunene region. Village headmen are highly respected in the rural and
urban communities in Namibia and they hold significant influence in the communities.
When you talk of gender, many people in Namibia think of women. I found it impossible to get
men involved in HIV & AIDS activities. Women often have to take care of the house, and at the
same time, they are burdened with taking care of the sick people in the village. He said that
having traditional male leaders in his campaign has led to an increase of male involvement in
home-based caring for people with HIV & AIDS.

The VSO Programme Office in Namibia supported this initiative through The Caring Namibian
Man. Young people all over the country received basic training on photography, along with
disposable cameras, to challenge the stereotypes surrounding masculinity in Namibia. The
project produced stunning images of Namibian men as more compassionate and sensitive
individuals, often in the act of doing chores that are usually delegated to women. The photo
exhibit was launched in Namibia in 2005 and was displayed in Canada during the International
HIV & AIDS Conference in 2006.

Namibia, August 2004

The first time I flew to Namibia was in August 2004, as a VSO Bahaginan Officer accompanying
a media crew. I cried as much, and as often, as Kara David did. But I was lucky enough not to
be on cam. I took Kara and her GMA crew to Namibia to film the documentary of three Filipino
women trying to address different poverty issues in the country.
I merely scanned the Country Briefing Pack that we require all volunteers assigned in Namibia
to read for a better understanding of the place. Unlike the volunteers, I did not undergo the
intensive orientation on HIV & AIDS. The GMA team and I were more preoccupied with the
script and getting our visas in time for our flights. Our entry documents were faxed to our Manila
office the night before we were due to fly.
So this girl, this AIDS victim Kara and Lloyd were going over the storyline on our way to the
shoot.
I was not remotely surprised when the VSO Namibia Country Director suddenly suggested a
short discussion in the office before we start the filming. I realized the media crew neither had
the time to digest all the information we got for the trip. We were given copies of proper terms
to use when referring to HIV & AIDS, after the Country Director emphasized the & in place of
the usual slash between HIV, and, AIDS.
A week of filming with the crew took me to villages where people relied on dry woods for
cooking and heating. They ate mopane worms and spinach with maize meal. They brewed their
own beer and they made houses from dried cow dung. They wore clothes from the Salvation
Army and Oxfam (and forgot to remove the tags dangling on them). The slightly used sneakers
were too big for the little boy. He wore them just the same for he had no other shoes.

Children with jugs of water on their heads walked in the middle of nowhere. I greeted them in
signs thinking they would not understand English. It is the location of the famed The Gods Must
Be Crazy, after all.
How are you? came the reply from the youngest boy. He could almost pass for British with his
tone, if I hadnt seen his face first.
I saw the billboard outside the hospital where Nimfa stayed. It warned young girls about sugar
daddies, telling them they can easily get AIDS that way. I met some of her colleagues and
friends at the hospital. I wondered whether some of them were positive, too. I took the one in
every five far too literally in my paranoia.
I met the young girl who still spoke very little, but she looked like she was enjoying her birthday
party and her cake. The food was not enough to feed the hungry mouths of hyperactive kids. I
donated the crisps and cookies from my snack bag for the affair. They kept playing games like
all children do parties, or any time of the day. They laughed like any other happy child. I learned
that the celebrants father had just died a few weeks before her birthday. I learned that the other
orphans in the shelter lost their parents to AIDS.
I was entertained by the performance of Helens students. I tried to follow their steps, but I
stopped when I spotted the smallest student, and most graceful dancer, laughing at my feeble
efforts. Some girls tried to pull my hair. They wanted to check if it is real. Most girls and women
who wore their hair straight in Namibia are on extensions. Even Helen had learned the craft of
having a different hairdo every week.
I talked to one of Helens female students. She told me she wanted to be like Helen someday.
She had to convince her parents to let her go to school every morning. The girl is the brightest
in her class. I chatted with the school principal, but only briefly for he did not look very well. He
could not stand long enough to watch the students finish their number. He is HIV positive, he
said. He got it from one of his partners.

Namibia, March 2006

I came back to Namibia as a VSO Volunteer in March 2006. I signed a six-month placement, but
I stayed three months longer than my initial assignment. I needed more time to do what had to
be done. VSO Bahaginan, the federation member of VSO International in the UK, is responsible

for recruiting and sending Filipino VSO volunteers. I used to manage several components of
the Bahaginan programme before I decided to walk the talk and become a VSO volunteer
myself.
I did not get any special treatment as a former staff member. I underwent the selection process
that puts every applicant in a hot seat. I knew the right answers to the questions, of course, but I
decided to be honest. I passed the selection. But they had to interview my husband, as well. He
must give his consent to his wifes volunteering plans.
When asked whether sex might be an issue during the separation, my husband casually replied,
In every relationship, it is important to have TRUST di ba, yung condom.
As a friend, my selector admitted that had he not known my partner any better, he would have
warned me about volunteering abroad. My husband gave him the right answer, after all.
Having passed the more crucial stage of the application process, I could not get away from the
intensive pre-departure trainings that each VSO volunteer must take. There were several
sessions that deal with HIV & AIDS, among other poverty issues that VSO deals with in about
35 countries in Africa, Asia, and in the Caribbean Islands. I was not totally unfamiliar about our
development goals, but I realized how little I knew of the disease.
Apart from my previous tour to Namibia, the only time I encountered AIDS in the Philippines was
through films like Sara Jane and a much earlier movie by Vilma Santos titled, Dahil Mahal Kita:
The Dolzura Cortez Story. Both women with HIV contacted the virus through sex, and both
were involved in the world of prostitution at some point in their lives. Had I not met the young
Namibian girl raped by her own father, I would not have thought that even a nine-year old girl,
who had not even enjoyed her first pub experience, can be the face of AIDS.
I attended further orientation at The Remedios Foundation in Malate before my departure. I had
to know more about how the killer virus is leaving one in every five Namibians, defenseless. I
met more AIDS advocates at Remedios. Most of them talked about their former promiscuous
lives in graphic detail prior to having the virus. Some of them bore no signs of being sick, while
some had the more visible symptoms of sores and skin rashes. I held hands with them during
the group exercises and even ate lunch with them. By that time, that did not seem like a novelty
to me anymore. I knew much better by then.

I received more training as soon as I landed in Windhoek for the second time in my life. Every
new VSO volunteer was given a calendar featuring the photos of The Caring Namibian Man as
part of our In-Country Training Kit. My fellow volunteers from Kenya, the Netherlands, UK, India
and Canada, and I found the session on Snakes, Spiders and Sex probably the most
fascinating of all the topics. Apparently, these are the three S we need to be mindful of when in
Namibia. Most of the First Aid procedures sounded more like survival tips.
If a Black Mumba gets into your 4WD with you, jump out of it, even on a running engine.
According to the speaker, Namibias desert is rich with the most dangerous snakes and bugs,
and we just have to learn to live with them, especially when we go camping the following day.
Unlike snakes and scorpions, AIDS can be prevented. One can only get it through unprotected
sexual contact (whether homosexual, heterosexual and bi-sexual contact), blood or blood
products (through intravenous drug use with needle sharing or invasive medical operation) and,
mother-to-child transmission (during prenatal and postpartum stages).
Namibian men do not like using condoms, especially with their wives. Femidoms have been
designed so that women can protect themselves. The condom demonstration using femidom
with a rubber vagina was not as fun as trying to stretch a male condom on an African-size black
sculpted wood penis.
I barely understood the more scientific part of the session. I realized that to appreciate the
medical nature of HIV transmission, I should go back to the social issues that propagate AIDS in
Africa.
The sniffing and blowing of noses among the viewers added to the background music of the
South African film titled, Yesterday. The protagonist got the infection from her husband, a
miner in Johannesburg who rarely sees his wife and daughter in the countryside. She could not
answer the female doctor straight away when asked about their sexual contacts.
You know how men can be after being away from home for a long time, she said softly with a
shy smile.
The separation did not stop her husband from having sex. He and his fellow miners would hire
women to service them in the camp once in awhile. When she took a long journey to the city just
to inform him of her status, she got beaten up instead and she traveled back on the same day,

with bruises and a broken heart. It did not take long for the husband to come home. He showed
signs of being in the final stages of HIV.
Under the ground, there was no comfort room I had to go all the time it was very painful. I
stunk with my own pee and no one would come close to me
His wife had no choice but to look after him until he dieda lot sooner than the wife, who took a
more immediate action on her condition.
Everyone rushed to the door as the credits rolled. I could not wait to make an overseas call to
my husband. I wanted to check how he was getting along without me. But the trainer had more
to say,
Please take some condoms before you leave the room.
I remembered my husbands answer to my selector. I speed dialed his number.
My last training on AIDS is called AIDS and Me. Unlike all my previous workshops on the
disease, AIDS and Me is a little bit more personalized.
Okay, ladies form one group, men, another groupnow, in 15 minutes, try to list down all the
sexual positions you know. The facilitator, a black muscular Namibian with effeminate moves,
was very effective in interrupting our yawning during an early morning session. The previous
day, he used all of our 45 minutes fuming about a news article calling people with HIV, AIDS
Sufferers.
Do I look like I am suffering? I shook my head and wondered where he got his flashy top and
nice-fitting denims. He disclosed that he has been living with the HIV for 10 years and still has
sex once in a while, but always with a condom. He assured us that none of his sexual partners
had been infected by him.
It was time to crush the mens ego. The women beat the mens team by having one sexual
position on the list that none of them had heard of.
Helicopter? My Dutch Country Director exclaimed in disbelief as soon as he spotted that one
difference that bested them.
That can only come from an African woman! He said, almost as a justification.

It came from the only Filipino participant in the team. I got it from the controversial Filipino film
that almost did not make it to the theaters, Live Show.
After the men had recovered, the trainers asked us when and how we first learned about AIDS.
He said that in Namibia, the first case was reported in 1986. By 2003, more 130,000 cases have
been recorded. Urban legends about the virus coming from pharmaceutical companies, or from
the Americans who monitored Namibias peace process, and that George Bushs PEPFAR is
actually a weapon of mass destruction of Africans, resulted in highly stimulating discussions.
My boss got in a heated debate with a participant from another NGO when the trainer raised the
question on the right of a person with HIV to bear a child. I kept quiet. My development
background told me that even people with HIV have the right to have children. After visiting
overcrowded shelters for orphans, and talking to overworked volunteers and overburdened
grandmothers who look after their dead childrens children, I decided it was best to listen to both
sides.
My VSO assignment was to understand the nature of Namibian volunteering in the country and
to develop a strategy that would support the ubuntu or African giving movement. Until recently,
Voluntary Service Overseas has been promoting mainly international volunteering as an
approach to fight poverty and disadvantage. Through skills sharing, VSO hopes to build the
capacity of local communities, the people-to-people way. Today, VSO promotes national or local
volunteering because it believes that doing so would achieve longer lasting impact. The local
peoples willingness to share their time and efforts within their own villages must be tapped.
VSO is only one among hundreds of government and non-government agencies in Namibia
working against AIDS. But it is usually the most innovative. It was evident that volunteering was
already happening in Namibia, mostly in the area of HIV & AIDS. But it had to be supported to
sustain it. I advocated for government and organizational policies to promote community
volunteering in the country. I trained staff on how to manage their volunteers more effectively. I
tried to reduce the burden of care among these dedicated yet unpaid workers, while making
their valuable contribution more recognized. Namibians for Namibia! had been my battle cry for
two years.
A few months after the training, I learned that one of the participants had died. My colleague did
not say what the cause was. But I remembered her quite clearly.

My best friend is a Filipina, her young pretty face beamed at me. She had only positive things
to say about the Filipinos she had met. She was 10 years younger than me and she did not
know how to use a condom properly during the demonstration.

Namibia, February 2007

After a Christmas Holiday in the Philippines, I returned to Namibia in February 2007. The VSO
Country Director asked me to manage the programme that I developed as a volunteer. It also
meant having to supervise other VSO volunteers from the UK, the Netherlands, and the
Philippines. I agreed to do it until the next Christmastime, and only if my husband could join me.
It was then that I saw brave Livey roaming around the office. She was hired by our neighbor
Swedish NGO as an intern. I did not realize that she was positive until I read her book. She
looked as vibrant as the next young Namibian ladyat least, when she was not sick and
worried about her CD4. I did not get to meet Remi Joe but I was told he was enjoying his new
school.
Would you like to stay on? My boss asked me whether I wanted to extend my contract. I had
enjoyed my time, especially my job, in Namibia. But I missed my life in Manila. I could not bear
another month living behind electric fences and I did not really fancy game meat. I declined on
the basis of missing paksiw na bangus, and fearing possible break-ins, another mugging
experience and more vehicular accidents. Somehow, I found myself being in the Rescue Team
of two Filipinos who got into car accidents in the past two years that I lived in Namibia. Although
both accidents were equally traumatic, it was the second that reminded me that AIDS can
indeed happen to anyone.
I was having lunch in my desk when someone pushed a mobile phone to my ear.
Talk to her, Abbyits better if you do it. I could sense panic in my colleagues voice.
Someone in the other line was talking in broken English. After a quick briefing from my
colleague, I realized it was the Filipino volunteer assigned in the remotest village. She got into a
car accident.
Marlyn, si Abby ito, ano ang nagyari? Nasaan ka?

I tried to sound calm but I remained seated in case my knees give me away. I had dj vu as I
was suddenly reminded of the time when another Filipino development worker almost died in a
vehicular accident the previous year. She needed half a year to be able to walk again. Her
organization did not have an office in Namibia to look into her case. I ended up dealing with her
UK office, arranged for the series of operations she had to undergo and tried to get one of her
family members in the Philippines to Namibia, on the next plane.
Back to present time, I had to know where the volunteer was before I can do anything about the
situation. Sure enough, the voice of another Filipino instantly made Marlyn cry while trying to
give me information in between sobs.
Abby, patay na ata silaandito pa ako sa kotseAbby, hindi ko magalaw ang leeg ko..ang
daming dugo
She couldnt move much of her body but she managed to reach her mobile phone to call. I
pushed my sandwich aside and quickly scribbled some notes. The accident happened in the
gravel area. It would take the nearest ambulance five hours to get to the accident site and
another five hours to take the remaining live victims to the nearest hospital. Marlyn was the only
sensible passenger who buckled up. The driver instantly died, along with the two passengers
who squeezed Marlyn in the middle of the back seat. She could see the lifeless bodies thrown
out of the vehicle due to the impact, lying on the gravel road. There were more who died-- two
children-- but she did not know who they were. They merely hitched a ride with them. The
statistics were shocking but it was Marlyns next garbling that hit me.
Abby, may dala kaming vials para blood test sa ospital dito sa sasakyansumabog ata..ang
daming dugo sa mukha ko...
I realized I was no longer seated. After a long, deep breath, I continued to ask Marlyn for signs
that she could see around her that would tell us exactly where she was. I went on talking to
Marlyn to keep her conscious until a private vehicle had stopped to take her out of the car and
into a hospital.
I found myself volunteering to be in-charge of the case. Marlyn once stayed at my place when
she was in the capital. After more calls and decisions, I went home to pack some stuff. I could
only go to the hospital the following day. It was late afternoon and it was not advisable to drive in
the bush after 6pm and risk bumping into kudos and warthogs along the way.

I asked the doctor about the vials after a six-hour road trip to reach the hospital, and after
checking on a heavily-sedated Marlyn. The kind Kenyan doctor assured me that they performed
tests and that Marlyn was safe. Apart from the bruises on her face, a broken neck and spine,
she will recover. I suggested for her to go home to the Philippines and take some rest. The
tragic incident took from Marlyn the only person that she can talk to in the village. She and
Marlyn were on their way to a hospital that day to get blood samples tested for HIV.
After Marlyn was sent home for a short break, I decided to follow suit. Back in Manila, it felt
strange not to see HIV & AIDS on the papers every morning, nor watch about it in the evening
news. I missed some of the giant billboards with funny looking drawings to depict how scary
AIDS could be. It wasnt until I flew to Malawi in March 2008 that I got to see another face of the
deadly virus. I witnessed AIDS creeping its way among mothers and newborns. And I realized
that my continuing education on HIV & AIDS is far from over.
-x-